


R3dJ0hnsMine

by Ruuger



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Crack, Gen, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/pseuds/Ruuger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane writes a very important email.</p><p>(My sincerest apologies to Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz)</p>
            </blockquote>





	R3dJ0hnsMine

When Van Pelt returned from lunch, she found Jane sitting at her usual workstation. He was cradling his teacup between his hands, just staring at the screen. She frowned. Jane almost never used a computer himself. When he needed something done on a computer, he usually just bribed or pestered her to do it for him. Besides, they were in-between cases, so she couldn't think of anything that he might even want look up online. 

"Jane, what are you doing?" she asked, setting her coffee down on her desk.

He looked up and flashed her a radiant smile. "Ah, Grace! Just the woman I needed. What's my password?"

She gave him a blank look. "Your... password?"

"Yes. I want to write an email, and apparently I need a-" he made airquotes around the word, "-'password' to do it."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out if he was trying to trick her in some way. "I don't know your password."

Jane looked disappointed. "Can't you do that hacking thing that you computer people do?" He made a complicated hand gesture that she assumed was his attempt to mime hacking.

"I don't hack into people's computers, Jane." 

Suddenly she realised what had been nagging her. It wasn't the login screen that Jane had been staring, but rather the desktop. "Wait, if you don't remember your password, how did you log on to the computer?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, I just used yours like I always do."

She gaped at him. "What? You can't do that! How do you even know my password?"

"It's not like you've been trying to hide it. I could easily figure it out from your typing patterns. But I can't very well use your email to send a message, can I." He paused, giving her a curious look. "Can I?"

"No!" She reached over him and hit CTRL+ALT+DEL on the keyboard, logging him out from her user account. "And why are you asking me for your password? Is your memory palace being fumigated or something, if you can't remember it?"

"Oh, very clever. My memory palace is as formidable as ever, but how could I remember my password if I never knew it in the first place?"

She frowned again. "What do you mean, you don't know your password? You picked it yourself."

"No, I'm pretty certain that I didn't."

She was about to argue, but then paused. "You mean you've never changed your password?"

It was Jane's turn to look confused. "Changed it to what?"

She sighed. "Your password was in the papers you got when you started working here, and you were supposed to change it to something else." 

He remained confused. 

"It was the random string of numbers and letters in a separate envelope?" She tried.

"Oh, that was a password." He turned to the screen again. His eyes unfocused for a second, and then he entered his username and password in the login screen. When the computer accepted the credentials, Van Pelt gave him a disbelieving look.

"Please. It was years ago. You couldn't really have just remembered it."

Jane pointed a finger at his temple. "Formidable, Grace. Formidable."

He turned to face the screen again, and then just stared at it. After a while she took pity on him and clicked on the Outlook icon. 

She watched over his shoulder as Outlook updated his inbox. It took several minutes. When it was done, they waited few more minutes as the 364 missed meeting reminders popped on the screen one by one.

When alerts finally stopped, she stared at the screen in disbelief.

**Inbox (13,823)**

"You've never read your email?"

He gave her a blank look. "No."

"But all the memos come in email. How do you know anything that's going on?"

"If there's anything important I need to know, I trust that Lisbon will tell me about it," he said, and then smiled. "Thank you, Grace. I think I can handle it myself from here."

"You're welcome. I guess." 

She picked up her coffee and turned to leave, but then stopped, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Who are you writing an email?"

* * *

Lisbon was engrossed in reading a proposal for a new inter-department rapid response team when there was a ding from her computer, signalling a new email. After finishing the page, she set down the document and clicked Outlook. There was one unread email in her inbox. 

**From: Jane, Patrick <patrick.jane@cbi.gov>**  
 **Subject: Dearest Teresa**

She frowned, looking up from the screen. When she sat up and stretched her neck, she could see Jane in the bullpen, talking to Van Pelt. Her frown deepened.

She knew in theory that Jane had an email address, because he would have been automatically given one when he joined CBI, but she was fairly sure that he had never actually used it. She'd always made certain to tell him in person any important news from the office mailing lists because Jane using a computer was an idea as ridiculous as Cho joining the circus. 

The email had to be a virus or spam of some kind, except that if it was, the spam filters should have caught it. And if it wasn't spam, then why was Jane sending her an email instead of just coming to talk to her in person? 

After brief hesitation, she opened the email, trying to ignore the irrational fear that her computer was going to explode or squirt water at her if she did.

> _Dearest Teresa,_
> 
> _After my sojourn in Vegas, I have been trying to keep you all at arms length both for your own protection, and because of my own selfish desire to avoid being hurt again. But, to be honest, some unexpected dimensions of my new life are eating away at any resolve I have left. I'm lonely, Teresa, uncertain of my ability to live like this. I want to come home. To you, and to the team._
> 
> _So please ask security to unlock the attic room._
> 
> _Yours,  
>  Patrick_
> 
> _P.S. The kitchen is out of Earl Grey._

When she looked up from her screen, she found Jane standing in the doorway. She glared at him for a few seconds, then grabbed one of the small paperweights on her desk and threw it at him. Jane had anticipated her reaction and the paperweight bounced from the doorframe as he quickly dodged out of the room.

"Jackass," she muttered, and returned to her work.

**Author's Note:**

> As some of you may have noticed, parts of Jane's email had been borrowed from Mulder's infamous "Dearest Dana" email in The X-Files episode "TrustNo1"


End file.
